589: Restoring the Lion's Heart
by Junk Garage
Summary: Squall is stuck in an enchanted coma and it's up to his companions, Bartz and Zidane, to get him out! But how will they cope when they have to travel through the time of Final Fantasy 8 in order to save Squall's life? A 589 centric story. BL; Spoilers
1. Chapter 1

**Restoring the Lion's Heart**

_Disclaimer: _All characters are property of Square-Enix. I own nothing! I also do not own the little image thing used for the story. See below for source.

_Image Source_: member_ ?mode=medium&illust_id=3828173

_Summary_: Squall is stuck in an enchanted coma and it's up to his companions, Bartz and Zidane, to get him out! But how will they cope when they have to travel through the time of Final Fantasy VIII in order to save Squall's life? A 589 centric story.

_Author's Note_: Heya! This entire story was actually part of a different project I'm working on, but in the end I brought it here because as I was scripting the whole thing it became clear to me that this could work well as a standalone project. So I decided to turn this into a multichapter story, despite me not even being a writer! Hope I do well.

Anyway as mentioned in the description this will essentially be a sort of crazy version of Final Fantasy 8 with Bartz and Zidane, so anyone who hasn't played the game and plans to I seriously advice you to turn away now, provided you don't mind being spoiled.

I'm also looking for a beta, so anyone interested can leave me a note. Thanks, and hope you enjoy!

**Warnings:**

+ Bartz  
>+ Zidane<br>+ Stupidity  
>+ AU-ish and slight Canon Distortion (that is to say I've taken some liberties with the elements from Final Fantasy 8)<br>+ Boys Love (Squall/Bartz primarily and a few later on)  
>+ FF8 spoilers<br>+ Dissidia spoilers  
>+ Slight OOC-ness<br>+ Mild swearing

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

It had been almost two years since Squall's arrival here.

With Bartz. And Zidane.

Right after the defeat of Chaos, when they were meant to be teleported back to their respective worlds, he was instead teleported here – a calm and peaceful little city unfamiliar to him at the time.

Teleported along with Bartz and Zidane.

Two years of living a casual lifestyle. Two years of no monsters, no magic, no clashing of swords, no war (well, this was not including the occasional banter among his mates which sometimes did turn out wild) – two years of being away from everything he was brought up to be and do.

Yes, he was feeling rather nostalgic.

At moments like these he questioned why this happened, why he was never returned to his original home. Were all his other comrades from the 13th cycle* transferred back to their worlds? Had he done something wrong to end up in this place? Was he never going to return back to the world he grew up in, and saved? Was it actually his destiny to meet these two peculiar boys and instead stay eternally with them…?

The truth was while there was no way of knowing the answers to his internal questions, the more he thought about it the more he realized it...wasn't that big of a deal anymore. And for it to be so he had come a really long way: when he first arrived in this chic little town and it was clear to him that this was not his home and that there must have been an error, the initial feat he had to deal with was the prospect of never returning back to where he thought he belonged. Leaving behind his life, his companions, his love...without even getting to say goodbye. He was yet again thrust into the hands of fate, having his route being greatly meddled with only to then be tossed back to reality to deal with the mess all over again.

Squall was just not accustomed to change. He didn't take to being forced into sudden scenarios without his consent very well. He preferred familiarity, something he knew he could control, could predict and take charge of. Change on the other hand was new, was open, and was entirely unpredictable. But beneath all that froth, the truth was that his unwillingness and apprehension for doing anything other than the ordinary all boiled down to him simply being scared. Yes, he was scared – terrified even. With change's boundless realms and endless possibilities, anything could happen. Anything could go _wrong_. The uncertainty of it all was what always put Squall at unease.

However, what he didn't realize then (and has now) was that there was nothing for him to be scared of, because he wasn't alone. He wasn't alone to make the errors, he wasn't alone to pick up the pieces, he wasn't alone to dictate his life, he wasn't alone in dealing with the changes and life style adjustments. For he had Bartz and Zidane.

He could've ended up with any of the Cosmos warriors from the 13th cycle but he didn't. He found himself with the only two people he somehow grew to deeply care for during their battle against Chaos. And them living together for the past two years had really put his feelings for them into perspective, and solidified their ever strong bond.

It was after all, thanks to them that he learned how to live with the drastic changes. It was thanks to them that he got to terms with it and adapt. It was thanks to them that he even grew to...genuinely enjoy it. And why wouldn't he, for the first time in his entire life he got to taste the bittersweet delight that was known as freedom. Bartz in particular – who was the kind of guy that took everything in stride and seemed to care the least (if at all) about living an entirely new world – helped him greatly to accept the changes for what they were worth and make the best of it. And Squall did, he truly did.

He remembered Bartz talking about his carefree adventures when they were still on their quest to defeat Chaos, about how he would just aimlessly wander wherever the wind carried him without a care in the world (literally). He remembered at the time feeling a little envious, thinking that he'd never be able to experience the life Bartz had.

_"So basically you're like some sort of caged bird? Well we gotta change that then. Someday, I promise I'll kidnap you from your world and we'll gallop around aimlessly for a month over at mine." Bartz declared rather decidedly._

_Squall waited a bit with shifty eyes, waited for a cue to announce the whole thing was a gag. When he realized that Bartz was looking as sincere as he could get… "That's impossible and you know it."_

_"Nothing's impossible with a little determination!"_

"Hm, indeed." Squall mused softly to himself. He was currently seated on his lonesome by the counter of a rather scarce-looking bar for the nightly hours. With an elbow propped up on the table, his hand supporting his chin, he let his free one lazily move in circular motions as a lone finger swirled over the circular brim of his half-filled glass. He stared down at his drink, still lost in his thoughts, to the point that he wasn't even aware of the small smile that was currently settled on his dazed face.

"Yoohoo, Squall! You still here?"

That startled Squall out of his insightful reverie. The deep-thinker shifted his head to face the intruder, who he had recognized to be Bartz by way of the voice. Speak of the Devil. Was he here the whole time? He couldn't remember talking to him before.

"Must've zoned out."

"So long as you're not drunk or high! I don't really want to have to deal with that right now."

Squall couldn't help but make an incredulous face at that comment. "Wha- come off it, I've never been drunk before and that's not about to change."

"Well as much as I'd love to tease you about it and actually _get_ you drunk, I have a question: can I see your ring?"

_That's...random_, thought Squall. He cocked his eyebrow at that and gave the mime a questioning glance.

But Bartz only blinked those amber eyes of his in response, in an almost childlike manner. Honestly he didn't really believe the mime was three years older than him, it was just not possible given the way he acted.

Bartz had told many a tale of his travels across his world, and of what Squall could remember it sounded like he'd really seen it all. And yet he still retained a youthful, almost innocent aura around him which, to be honest, sort of fascinated Squall. How he managed to retain these traits typically exhibited by those untainted by the reality of the cruel world, head on full force and come out of with those same qualities unscathed, was just beyond him. Maybe his head really was empty?

"Won't do anything stupid, I just want to have a clear look at it. Always thought it seemed pretty cool. It...shimmers and stuff. It's like it's calling out to me."

A faint clank resounded on the polished hard table.

"What? You're actually giving it to me?"

"Just remember to hand it back. In one piece."

"Sure thing boss!"

Bartz took the ring and happily held it up to get a better glance at the jewelry. He gleefully admired it as Squall watched him, somewhat boredly.

"Oh hey, there's a lion head on it! Didn't notice it before, that's kinda neat," having discovered the carefully crafted little feline head, the enthusiastic mime poked at it curiously.

It wasn't until a moment later that Squall started to heave himself from his stool, calling it a day. "I'm tired, I'll be heading out to the flat."

"Wait, don't you want your ring back?"

Squall, already heading for the door, turned to look at Bartz for the last time. There was a very faint but tender smile only just slightly creeping at the corners of his lips, completely unnoticeable to the untrained eye. "Like I said: remember to give it back."

Then he was out of the bar.

o-o-o-o

"Hey Zidane, look what I got!" Fresh out of the bar (but not too far off) and into the cool night, Bartz came charging down towards Zidane who was busy…what was he doing exactly? Why did he have what looked like a deflated long pink balloon and why was he -

"Squall's ring!" Zidane left his mess to head towards Bartz, who was initially waving the shiny metal in the air as he came charging down until he stopped to questioningly calculate what it was his blond friend was trying to do.

Either way. He decided it wasn't really important right now. He had better plans! "You know what we should do with it? See who can shove it up the furthest in their nose."

"If you're good for one thing, Bartz, it's ingeniously retarded ideas. I love it."

* * *

><p>"Hurry your asses guys, or we'll miss free breakfast!"<p>

Morning dawned in already, spilling out the sun's rays into the little flat the boys called home to give them their cue to rise. Zidane, who was already up, was busy half struggling to fit his pants on while hopping towards his comrade Squall. "What the hell's he still doing in bed?"

Bartz too was busy getting changed. He had just finished slipping on his tank top when he managed to utter out, "That's strange, Squall doesn't normally sleep in." He ran his hands through his curly brown locks to help comb it into place.

The blonde, who was still fumbling with his pants what with his many belts getting in the way, eyed Squall skeptically. "Maybe it's his new Beauty Sleep hour."

At that Bartz had to stop what he was doing. "His what?"

"I swear he does that."

...Okay. The mime had always suspected Squall was a little too meticulous with the way he looked, but to the point of creating a beauty sleep routine? It was probably Zidane's attempt at a joke, but Bartz found it more hilarious to pretend that it was indeed true. "Well, the more you know!"

"Right well I'mma head out already, catch you in the cafe."

"Sure thing."

So with that Zidane left the flat. The mime continued his quest to frantically deck himself up - seriously, what was it with him and always tossing his clothes at every imaginable corner of their home? It was always such a struggle to find his belongings each morning.

There was one thing, however, that Bartz always did keep in the same spot: his gloves. He distinctly remembered this time because when he got back last night Squall was already fast asleep, so he had placed the ring together with his gloves on the night table, making note to give it back to Squall first thing in the morning.

So when he got to the table and found his gloves exactly in the angle they were left, he was surprised to notice that the ring was completely absent. _Huh?, _he thought. _I could've sworn I left Squall's ring with my gloves."_

Bartz began to ponder if he really did slip it elsewhere. But no memory came to mind. Zidane couldn't have taken it. Well, yes he could've but why would he? They had played out that nose-diving game until it almost got stuck in Zidane's nose. Bartz inwardly giggled at the memory of trying to scoop the ring out with a twig, and Zidane complaining that it was touching his brain. Yeah, he was sure Zidane probably wouldn't even want to _see _that ring again.

"Hey Squall did you take the ring back? I don't have it!"

He was answered with the ambient music of the everyday city life. Squall was supposedly still fast asleep.

"Squall! You really serious about your beauty naps? You never sleep in like this, even on a day off."

Greeted with further silence.

"...Squall?"

Bartz went to shake him. Nothing. He shook again but with a bit more vigor. Nothing still. And again, and again...

...and again.

"Squall...? Seriously, this isn't funny."

Then it finally hit him.

"...Oh my - Zidane! Zidane get back here!"

And with that, Bartz raced out in a frenzy to go fetch Zidane.

* * *

><p>In a state of alarm at Bartz's bold 'Squall is dead!' cries of panic , it only took a few moments later for our duo to fumble back into the room, right by their supposedly unconscious comrade's bed. Zidane was the first to wave his hand over his face, then later down on his chest.<p>

"Is he dead?" Bartz warily asked.

"But he's still breathing," Zidane furthered his inspection by prodding and poking him in the sides. "Seriously Squall get up, it's not funny."

"…Maybe he pricked his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel?"

_What? Is he trying to be funny? _the thief blinked slowly in confusion, unsure of his comrade was being serious.

"Or ate a poisoned apple?"

"..."

"Cursed to eternal sleep!"

"Alright, so why don't you free him of the spell." Zidane threw back.

The mime blinked, but looked a bit uneasy. A cute hue of pink was threatening to tint his cheeks. "Well uh… ... ...it wouldn't work anyway, would it? I mean he did once say he had a girl. He already has a true love."

"Doesn't hurt to try. I could always do with the blackmail material."

"…_I'll_ be in the blackmail material."

"Exactly."

"It seems I'm already too late…"

That was an unfamiliar voice.

"Did you…say something?" Zidane tentatively whispered to Bartz. But the boy shook his head.

A small moment passed by as the boys threw back stares at each other, frozen in place. It was only later when they dared to slowly turn their heads around that they noticed a fourth presence in the room: a tall cloaked figure. It stood there, immobile, their face completely hooded. Had it not been for the rather effeminate voice, you couldn't make out the gender. You could however, make out the trace of their mouth.

Bartz was the first to speak again. "…There's a robed thing standing in the middle of our flat…"

"I am sorry to intrude, Sir Tribal and Sir Klauser." It was hard to notice, but the cloaked being bowed their head in (presumingly) apology. "My name is Noelle, I am a Dimension Shifting Sorceress."

When the boys gave the newly dubbed Noelle nothing but their questioning faces, she carried on. "I come in plea for you to help Sir Leonhart and to put him back in the Time Cycle." There was a slight pause. For a moment, the boys could've sworn the robed figure was scolding, giving the vague impression she was genuinely upset. "Ultimecia is persistent as always; she managed to use her remaining forces before her death in the 13th cycle* to act against Squall and curse him. It would seem that the curse has finally been triggered, and he has fallen to eternal sleep. I fear this will pose a treat to all remaining Sorceresses, and all those living in the dimension she's currently in."

"HA! I was right! Cursed to eternal sleep!" Probably the least appropriate moment to start cheering about anything, but the mime did it anyway, if just because he usually acted before he bothered to think.

"Good guessing Prince Charming. Your virgin reward is still waiting to wake the hell up."

Bartz merely frowned at Zidane, but settled down.

The blond ignored his pouting friend to get back to what was otherwise seemingly more important matters. "I don't understand though; if you're a sorceress, why can't you take Ultimecia out yourself?"

"I am merely a Dimension Shifting Sorceress, that is to say, I can only transfer myself and others _willing_ to other dimensions. I otherwise cannot fend for myself. Ultimecia on the other hand, is gifted with much greater powers that seem unlimited; she could easily take me over and even steal my power as opposed to me trying to banish her to another dimension. I could never stand up to her."

"Wow. That sucks." Zidane stated flatly.

"As fate would have it, Squall is the one destined to take out Ultimecia, which is why it is important for me and the sake of my dimension that we put him back in the time cycle. I'd imagine it's important for you to have your friend back, too."

At this point Bartz was screwing his facial features into a rather quizzical expression, seemingly confused about something. "I'm probably not going to get it anyway, but what is this time cycle dimension thing you keep bringing up?"

Noelle chuckled a bit. "Ah, I apologize. It must all sound rather confusing and convoluted to those who are unfamiliar with the concept. Well, basically a dimension is a different world, or a different universe if you will. For example, this city here is one dimension, your original worlds would be two separate other dimensions. The conflict you fought in the 13th cycle, too, was in another dimension."

Bartz started again, expression unchanged. "Wait you...you know all about that?"

Noelle ignored the questioning remark and carried on. "Now a Time Cycle, is a set of different periods of times in each individual dimension. They are the Past, the Present and the Future. What Ultimecia has ultimately done is created her own personal loop; everytime Squall destroys her in the future, she travels back into the Past, passing on her powers onto the same victim before dying in order to repeat her plans again. But so long as Squall grows up to eliminate Ultimecia, the cycle will repeat over and over, hindering Ultimecia from ever accomplishing her goals. So can you imagine what would happen if all the Squalls from the time cycle - in that dimension - were to disappear completely?"

"...There'd be no one to stop Ultimecia, and she'll get away with whatever her plans are." finished Zidane.

"Precisely."

"Wait but, if Squall was here, didn't that mess with the whole time thing to begin with?"

"No it did not. The Squall you know is from the future tense, from after he defeated Ultimecia. His doing and wherabouts does not affect the other Squalls in the other time cycles. This enchantment Ultimecia has thrust upon Squall however, specifically affects all the Squalls from each time and lays them all dormant, since in a sense they are all connected."

It was starting to make more sense to Bartz, but there was still one fundamental unanswered question. "So how do we go about getting him back?"

"His Griever Ring. That's what you need to obtain. That's what was enchanted - in that ring contains his 'soul', if you will. Without it on him, he essentially loses his soul. You need to find the ring and bring it back to its rightful host - in this case, the Squall in this very room."

"Jee well that sounds simple enough. You know where the ring is right?" the thief turned to look at Bartz, remembering that they had actually borrowed it from him last night.

"But that's the thing...it's not there. I left it on the night table and thought Squall took it, but it's not with him either. Ultimecia must've somehow nipped it.

"Correct. I assume its disappearance was part of the enchantment. That said, I am unaware of the exact whereabouts of the ring myself but I can feel its presence. I can definitely transfer you Sirs to the dimension in which it's located, but I cannot guarantee an exact landing on where it is exactly, but it shouldn't be too drastic. I'll try to get you both as near to the presence of the ring as possible. I trust you two are competent fighters and partners, so I'm not really worried." The cloaked figure, yet again, bowed her head slightly apologetically. "I apologize to impose and thrust this upon you so suddenly..."

"Don't worry lady!" chipped Bartz, "We need our Squally back just as much as destiny needs him to beat the crap out of Ultimecia!"

"So I take it you'll help out?"

"Of course," Zidane carried on. "He's one of us, and we all gotta watch each others back - ain't that right?"

Bartz nodded back.

"Wonderful, I am eternally grateful." Her lips curled into a smile. "I will leave you Sirs to prepare for leave. Let me know when you're ready by simply calling out my name, I will then inform you of final details before finally sending you off. I'll be around."

And with that, the robed figure slowly dissolved away into thin air.

It was a little overwhelming to take in but when the whole situation eventually dawned onto them it was stirring some serious excitement. Excitement they hadn't felt in _years_. For the first time in those said two years, the boys would be going off on another heroic adventure, adrenaline pumped up and all - but this time, to save their close friend. Zidane, who was the first to sit up from the bed mischievous grin in-tow, began cracking his knuckles in a knowing, challenging way. "Looks like this will be a mission with just you and me Bartz!"

Bartz smiled at Zidane, but turned to look back at the ever sleeping Squall. He actually looked peaceful...there was a complete absence of creases on his forehead, and his face was relaxed from his usual scowl. "It's been ages since we've done something like this - hope you're not rusty as hell."

"I could say the same for you man." laughed Zidane.

* * *

><p><em><strong>To Be Continued...<strong>_

_*13th cycle_: term used to refer to the events that happened in Dissidia Final Fantasy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Restoring the Lion's Heart: Chapter 2**

_A/N_: Many thanks to those who took the time to review the previous chapter! I'm really glad to hear this story is at least intriguing. Anyway here is the next chapter which is admittedly a little boring, if just because it's mostly setting everything up. It also may be filled with many errors because I'll be away for a while and I didn't want to hold this chapter up. So here's to hoping that it's actually readable. *crosses fingers* Well, enjoy what you can of it. (:

* * *

><p>The sounds of the chirping spring birds could be heard. The wind whistled along, swiftly carrying the lovely melodies around and about in the air. There were also crickets, some fluttering, and other little noises from various creatures that added to the general ambient music of what sounded like a bright, sunny day.<p>

It was all this that resounded, at first, as nothing but a faint and distant memory - but as the minutes passed by the sound became clearer, and louder.

"Uurh…"

That was Bartz. He was just beginning to stir awake from his unconscious sleep. He, along with Zidane, were currently sprawled about completely on an ever green plane where the grass was just long enough to tickle their noses, and where the tall green trees circled them as various bursts of the blazing sun spurted right through the uncovered parts of the daylight. They looked to be in a forest of some sort.

When Bartz had rubbed away the last of unconsciousness, he lazily turned his head about in search of his partner - ah, there he was, sprawled out not too far off. However he seemed to be giving no signs of consciousness. Bartz frowned slightly at this.

"Zid…" croaked Bartz, once he managed to drag himself over to his friend. He tried to shake him in hopes of getting a reaction. "Ziddy, you alright?"

Finally it amounted to something, because the thief - while groggily - began to stir awake. "Mmrh… are we…?"

Before anyone could get any further a monstrous roar banged painfully at their ears - followed by an out of nowhere massive gush of wind. It practically carried them right out of the forest, for their dreary and limp states left them rather vulnerable and not nearly alert enough to react immediately. Fortunately however their reflexes kicked into gear just in time to fumble back into a defensive stance, the unexpected agitation having cleared away the last of their sleepy residues.

Completely startled by the random outburst Zidane gave an undignified cry. "What the hell was that?"

When Zidane noticed Bartz wasn't looking nearly as annoyed as he was but rather astonished or what could constitute as vaguely bewildered, he simmered down from his rage and instead made a questioning face. "Bartz?" In fact, Bartz wasn't looking at Zidane at all, but rather looking upwards - bending his head all the way back. Zidane, curious, then looked up as well. "Oh what in the…"

They were looking right up into the eyes of a giant tyrannosaurs rex.

The monster roared once more, but this time Bartz and Zidane were prepared so they managed to hold themselves into place.

"Oh for the - I am _not_ fighting that thing!"

"That makes two of us - smoke bomb's away!"

Apparently Bartz had stored some of those - that or he had found the time to switch to his ninja job class - and pulled one right out, effectively shrouding up the view long enough to keep themselves away from enemy eyes. When the smoke had dissipated, the duo was completely out of sight.

* * *

><p>"…I wasn't mentally prepared to face a flaming dinosaur at our arrival here."<p>

They were out of the forest - quite far from the forest - and rested on the open grass out in the sun. The monster made no attempt to chase after them despite it being the one that initiated the confrontation. Upon reflection, maybe it was just screaming them away from its turf.

Either way it came as a bit of a surprise to the boys, Zidane only just getting over the after shock. "Yeah…yeah that really could've come with a warning."

"Well looks like Noelle did it at least? We're definitely in a different world now."

Effectively, they were. They looked around and noticed the layers upon layers of green, highlighted by the fierce sun that hung from the clear blue sky. The entire area was just a field of grass with the occasional bush and forests here and there - it was completely remote, but at the same time calm and peaceful. At a much further distance back they noticed something that looked like a town, but closer to them and what intrigued them currently was a large, slick, futuristic looking building, that Bartz jokingly thought was shaped similarly to a turd.

"That must be the Balamb University Noelle talked about. She wasn't kidding when she said it was hard to miss."

She mentioned a number of things before their send-off. Zidane recalled back on the several notes she made: about Ultimecia's goals to compress time, about the school Squall attended and what it was to be a so called 'SeeD', about how to return back once they had found the ring and most importantly, about the use of magic and summons which they called guardian forces. Apparently wielding magic was only a thing Sorceresses were gifted with, whereas the ordinary folks could only replicate it through 'para-magic' thanks to the aid of those guardian forces. Zidane was never able to cast magic to begin with and had no intentions of using the para-magic of this world either - having your memories fed off to those summons in exchange for power was not something he was ever willing to do - but a warning was made to Bartz who, as opposed to himself, could wield any kind of magic naturally so he had to be rather careful.

Speaking of which, he was pointing towards the curiously designed building. "You think that would be a good place to start? Hell, maybe we'll find it in Squall's room."

"Not like we have any other leads anyway, so it's as good as any."

And so the boys found themselves walking towards the odd looking university, agreeing it would be a fine place to start fishing out for the lost ring. If the exterior design left a bit to be desired, then the interior was a different story; the minute they helped themselves through the main gold entrance gates and up the stairs...they were struck in awe at the wild, futuristic display which neither Bartz or Zidane had ever seen the likes of. And they weren't even _in_ the actual building itself.

"Woah, check this out! Everything looks so sophisticated and classy!" Bartz excitedly went to touch at everything and anything that tickled his curiousity.

"Yeah...yeah I know right? Dang, Squall would come from a place like this." whislting, Zidane stood there arms folded as his head rolled around to take in the scenery.

It was a blissful and curious wonder walk, with plenty of ooh's and aah's at all the intricate little details that caught their attention. They continued like this, all through the journey into the university...up until they hit the security gates that is.

"Hold it right there strangers!"

Startled out of their wonderland stupor, the boys looked towards the intruder voice. It was from their left, where a large looking guard was currently sagged in his seat from behind a booth. His face was old and tired, and even somewhat unfriendly. If the boys didn't know better they would've said that this old fellow wasn't even bothering to hide the fact that he hated his job. "I'll need to see your pass."

"Pass?" Zidane started tentatively.

"Like I said."

"But…we don't have any," continued Bartz, vaguely confused.

"In that case, this classifies you two as intruders. No pass, no entrance sorry."

"What? But we have a very important retrieval to make!"

The guard looked over to Zidane with the same bored expression. Clearly this man didn't give a damn. "If you were sent from abroad, then you would have been granted with an entrance certificate."

"But we don't have one!" the mime was quick to interject again.

Scoffing, the guard shrugged his plump shoulders and finished with a rather decided, "Then no entrance."

With being so close to their target, this hindrance of a guard was easily getting to Zidane's nerves - but not enough to either make him shoot to the moon or crash right through the gates, breaching security. So he opted to listen to what this security guard had to say, in the hopes that they could get in by their rules. "Fine. How do we get a pass or whatever? We really need in that place."

At that the man was forming a skeptical face, seemingly unsure of whether to bother going through with the explanations or not. Eventually he made up his mind. "…We will first of all need your ID cards so we can make a background check. That could take a while. If you're deemed appropriate, we'll later proceed to do finger and eye scans, then have you fill out application forms then have you take _other_ body scans then…."

Noise noise noise. He was just going on and on and on. He wasn't _stopping_. And Zidane wasn't really making any sense of the flooding babbles either, let alone Bartz, who was looking just as lost and dejected at the whole situation. Was this Balamb University some sort of secret assassination unit? The security seemed so convolutedly tight for a school which was supposedly specialized in actually helping out those in need. The whole thing sounded like such a bother.

And when the guard had finished his course, it took a while for both Bartz and Zidane to realize that the older man's mouth ceased flapping, still lost in their internal questioning. The rock of realization hit them square in the head, eventually, bringing them back to reality but not helping much to clear their confusion. No one really knew what to say. Well, Zidane didn't. Bartz had tentatively started with the first thing that caught him off-guard and had since lost him throughout the entire monologue. "What if we…don't have IDs?"

"Oh for the – is this kid serious?" at this point the guard was showing signs irritation.

Bartz tried again. "Uh…can't we just skip all these formalities just for a second? It's not like we're going to stay there or anything, we just need to make a quick search. We'll be _real_ quick, promise."

"You kids are wasting my time. I already told you that no pass equals no entrance. Rules are rules. Either give in or go home already."

"Okay fine, if you're gonna be like this then we'll have to put it this way: open this here gate or we'll just barge our way in!" fired back Zidane.

"Yeaah! And Ziddy's got gas like you've never smelled before!"

"...Why do you talk, seriously."

Between their little banter, the guard had taken the opportunity to slip away from their attention and wheel behind from his desk. It looked like he was leaning into a speaker of some sort. "Yes, I'd like to report a madman and his goofball accomplice trying to invade Balamb…"

_Oh, now that's just great._ Zidane couldn't decide whether rolling his eyes or rubbing the sides of his head would've been more effective to cool off his growing frustration. Either way, he didn't particularly like the direction where this was heading.

Seemingly out of options, Bartz thought it was only logical that they go all out. "This calls for drastic actions: emergency plan in motion!"

For the record there was no emergency plan between the two that was ever discussed, but apparently they had the same thing in mind: the boys swiftly leaped over the security gates and dashed their way into the university. And they would've made it, had it not been for the armed forces charging towards their direction.

From behind, they recognized that very same guard that gave them a hard time earlier screaming. "Stop those idiots!"

"Abort! Reinforcements are here!" yelled the mime.

Halt. Skid. Turn one-eighty. They dashed right from whence they came - over the security gates - down the stairs - through the gold entrance gates and back into the wilderness of Balamb. They didn't stop to look back and see if the reinforcements were indeed chasing their wanted behinds for having yet behaved like their inner idiot selves.

* * *

><p>It took a while for the boys to lose the guards that had chased them out of not only Balamb University, but also through the open fields and right into one of the vast forests. Apparently what the boys did had really upset them, because they found themselves trying to lose their trails from the enraged mob of reinforcements for a good hour or so. Not even half way through the day of their mission and they were already causing problems. At that rate, this task was announcing itself to be a major flawless success. They could only hope that they weren't going to be listed on their "Wanted" or "Black" list if you will, and instead pray that this would simply be brushed off as some mishap.<p>

Currently the boys - defeated and wheezing - were up in the high ends of a tall tree deep in the richly green forest, away and hidden from the possible wandering eyes of the enforcers. They were both settled on two separate thick branches, Zidane hanging from one with his tail while Bartz sat rigidly, clinging tightly to the rough, hard trunk.

Ten minutes in. Zidane peeped down ever so slightly - careful not to make so much of a rustle - just to make sure the guards had dropped the chase completely and were out of sight. Coast was clear for now, and Zidane - having calmed down on his wheezing - deemed it safe again to start talking. "Well this is lame. We can't even get IN the damned most important place and worst of all, we may even be on their wanted list". He swung from below with his tail and landed in a seated position on the thick branch, legs dangling over.

Bartz though still looked like he was having a hard time. He hadn't said anything. In fact Zidane thought his skin color had vaguely turned green…

"Dude you ok?"

"No. No I'm not. I'm far from ok."

"Don't worry; the guards are gone, so we can get down and try getting into the uni by climbing it 'round the back - that way they can't see us."

"…I'm scared of heights."

He was what?

"Huh? How? All those double jumps you do in the air, you climbing the tree just now - and you're telling me you're afraid of heights?"

It came as a surprise to Zidane. Especially since they had known each other for over two years now, and no such thing ever left his lips or was vaguely hinted at.

"I can overcome it enough to get up and do things!" shrieked Bartz, "But it doesn't mean I still don't feel uneasy about it..."

Sighing amusedly, Zidane simply offered a sympathetic smile at his dear frightened friend. It was the least of all possible phobias Zidane expected the man to have. "Haha, I'm really sorry man. Think you can stomach it one more time for the bust in to the uni?"

"Just don't complain if I throw up in your face."

Zidane laughed whole heartedly. "I'll take it!"

And so with a little bit of a help from Zidane and some eventual fumbles and ruffles and tiny yelps here and there, the boys got back down safely and scuttled out of the forest. They were prepared and careful to avoid any possible guards that were still scouting the area, but thankfully for them this was not the case - the coast was completely clear, so they assumed they were a dropped case entirely and went on their way.

But as they hurried over to try and go around the university, they noticed a troop a people coming right out from the entrance of the school - first instincts were to flee and hide, which they did just as, by quickly fumbling over each other and flopping right into the nearest bush for cover, alarmed at the possibility that they could be more guards. Once they settled in and started double checking the situation by peeping through the holes of the bush, they noticed that the uniforms were completely different.

Those weren't guards. Ah, for once they were having a lucky streak, thank heavens for that. Deeming it safe to carry on with their master plan, they paid them no mind and scurried right off while the troop exiting Balamb - students, more precisely - marched away in the opposite direction. There was a person leading the squadron.

"Students of Balamb Garden University! I reckon you've equipped yourselves properly - as in G-Forces, Magic and Weapons! This is the SeeD test you're about to take - the slightest error could be vital!"

* * *

><p>Getting into Balamb University wasn't that great of a feat thankfully, they both managed to get in without any real problems - unless of course Bartz's hysteric phobia counted as a problem, but in general that too was managed pretty well. Sure he almost toppled off from his hold and was threatening he'd pass out, but the important thing was that he made it and was was alive. <em>Only just<em>, Bartz would've retorted.

Their wonderland stupor was quick to reemerge itself however. Having climbed through the window and land right into what looked like a classroom - fortunately for them it was completely empty - they gazed a little at how refined, high-end and advanced everything looked. From the hard polished floors, to the elegant architecture, to the specially designed computer desks; everything about it screamed luxury. They wobbled out of the room and out into the hall, letting themselves get overwhelmed by fascination.

"You still feel like throwing up now, eh Bartz?" the thief threw playfully, with a smirk.

Not having any real material to retaliate with, Bartz settled with sticking his tongue out. "Still though, this place doesn't fail to impress."

"You got that right," a pause. "Well, as fascninating as this school is we better start getting to work."

Bartz blinked, seemingly having forgotten what they were even doing here. "Ah yeah! I'll go back and check that classroom just in case."

The thief gave a curt nod. "Alright. I'll scout any other empty rooms here. It'll probably be a good idea to come back here at night for any currently occupied classrooms, since classes are usually over by then. That's of course if we don't find the ring elsewhere."

Bartz nodded in agreement, and with that he was off to check back into the room from where they came. Zidane himself got down to work with the other vacant rooms.

Several minutes went by into the search as Zidane was just exiting one of the empty classrooms. Apparently the school was on a lunchbreak or something of the sort, because all the classrooms currently looked like ghost towns.

As he came out though, a couple of voices could be heard at a far distance.

"C'mon pleeeeease! Just tell me!"

It was a rather loud, and boisterous voice if one could put it as such. It sounded needy, and was bordering on annoying. The theif got the faint impression you could grow tired just by _listening_ to it.

Supposedly there was a faint but curt sigh that followed the pleading. "Just wait until the briefing, Zell. It's in forty minutes by the lobby.

_Aaahh...a woman!_ Suddenly the blond was infinitely more interested. He made an internal whistle, curious to peek and see who exactly were the conversing duo. Actually that was a lie; he mostly just wanted to see if this woman was just as beautiful as she sounded.

"But I'm right here, so you might as well just tell me! Or give me a hint!" continued this 'Zell'.

The lady sighed again. "You're not exactly scoring any points with me right now."

"All I wanna know is who I'm taking my SeeD exam with! Is that really such a big deal?"

Zidane - who was walking towards the voices - reached the only turn of the long hallway, and it was from that area where the voices were coming. He peeked his head slightly at the corner, just to get enough of a glimpse of what was going on in the far end. And enough he did - the first thing that grabbed his eyes was the ethereal figure of an elegant blond lady, standing in front of what Zidane could only guess was an elevator. He couldn't see the whole of her face as she was practically standing with her back to him but angled slightly towards the side. The angle was enough for him to make out the trace of her fair face and red plush lips. That were currently sitting in a frown. Zidane too, frowned at that. _Man that Zell guy must be a real nag._

"Promise you will leave me alone and do something else productive."

"Deal."

"Fine. It's Squall. You are taking the SeeD exam with Squall. I will not tell you who your leader is, that will have to wait until the briefing."

Zidane wasn't particularly paying attention to the boy named Zell (except of course the obvious first glance like how he was tanned and had odd spikey hair, vaguely reminding him of Cloud) let alone the conversion, but it was hard to miss the sudden jolt of excitement that burst through the loud being. "Alright! I getta work with the legend Squall!" Was he punching the air? "That's wicked..."

A ding resounded. That must've been the elevator. The heavy doors slid open, waiting for the next batch of people to enter aboard. Zidane watched as the lady stepped in, apparently waiting for the hyperactive boy to enter the elevator as well. "Are you going down?"

"Hells yeah, I'm gonna stuff myself with hotdogs before the big deal. It'll be like my good luck charm!"

And then they were off.

"...What was _that_ all about?"

Zidane made a visible jump at the sudden comment. It was merely Bartz, but he was close enough to Zidane that he should've noticed his presence. How long had he been standing there?

"Dude don't do that - scared the crap out of me." Zidane held his chest, heaving a little.

"Ah, sorry."

Zidane scratched the back of his head idly. "So, did you find anything?"

Unfortunately the answer was no, as the mime slowly shook his head. "I'm guessing you didn't find anything either."

"Sadly. Let's try and find Squall's room and search it then, before we turn this entire school upside down."

Since there was nothing but classrooms on their current standing it was assumed the dormitories would be elsewhere, so Zidane started walking towards the elevator, hoping Bartz would take the hint. It took a couple of seconds before Bartz could even register Zidane wander off as Bartz was deep in thought, musing over something. Eventually he snapped out of it and quickly hurried after his partner.

* * *

><p>When the mime and thief found Squall's room after much inquiring the first thing that came to their attention was that there was a corpse on the bed.<p>

It was actually Squall himself.

But like the one from their world, and presumingly all the other Squalls in the other time cycles, he was void of his soul and was lost in a deep sleep.

"So this is Squall from here," idly commented Zidane. "They look exactly the same. Same clothes, same hair...same everything."

"Wait but...doesn't he have a SeeD exam in a bit?"

Zidane stared at Bartz with a confused face, but then he vaguely recalled the conversation between the woman he currently had his eye sights on and the over zealous boy. SeeD was mentioned several times in the conversation. "Ah, so you heard all that? Admittedly I wasn't really paying attention."

"Yeah I did! And I'm finally realizing that we're in the past!"

While the mime geniunely seemed to be worried about something that Zidane couldn't quite place, he still offered Bartz a questioning look. "I see that, but what I don't see is what that has anything to do with anything."

"It has everything to do with everything - if he doesn't take the exam then he won't become the SeeD he's supposed to be. We have to do something about it! "

"Um, we already are? We're trying to find the ring?"

"But that could take ages - Squall needs to take his exam now, who knows how often these things come up! That could mess up the whole cycle thing!"

"All the cycles are messed up anyway! Which is why we gotta find the ring tout de suite!"

"We can at least save one and put it on track. I mean, what if -"

"Look I get it Bartz - you wanna save Squall. You wanna save the world. You wanna headbutt into anything and everything to make it "right" because that's you, that's what you do. But take a minute to stop, think and look at the bigger picture: there is no Squall to take that exam. We're much better off finding that ring ASAP and fixing everything at once instead of trying to fix _one_ cycle, however the hell _that_ can be done. Finding the ring is our only solution to currently help Squall, so let's stick with it."

Bartz said nothing, looking downwards.

"Continue searching for anything 'round that corner, I'm going to go check the back."

And with that, Zidane temporarily disappeared into the second section of the room.

Bartz had well listened to Zidane's reasoning but he still wasn't convinced. _If Ultimecia hid the ring herself, why would it even __**be**__ in his room…_which was a valid point. If the location of the ring wasn't random, and Ultimecia really had purposely set for it to be transferred to a particular location, then it was probably within a special place known to her, or with someone she trusted - if she had any henchmen that was - or worse case scenario, it was possibly with herself. _But that would mean she'd be around here, right? Noelle felt the presence of the ring and teleported us as close to it as possible…ugh, I honestly don't even know anymore._

Feeling dejected, he turned to look towards his unconscious 'friend' stuck in a slumber, pushing aside his inner quarrels. This Squall didn't look all that much different from the one he knew, but you could faintly tell that he seemed just slightly younger. Maybe it was because this Squall had yet to face the hardships to come of his fate? Bartz frowned again. 'Hardships of his fate', there may very well even be no such thing.

The very idea that this boy's life could be a wreck by the time he woke up wasn't sitting well with Bartz at all. If this search took months – hell even if just weeks or _days_ – Squall would be presumed dead. The world would move on without him, and worse yet Ultimecia could possibly get away with her crazy nonsensical plans...which would affect both him and Zidane, too, since they were currently breathing within the dimension. He knelt down beside the bed, careful as not to disturb the brunette – despite the fact that the boy was deep in a coma – and smiled bemusedly.

It was a fact; Bartz felt the compulsive need to do something. Even though he knew in his head Zidane was right, he _knew_ that finding the ring first and foremost was the best solution for all – but in his heart, he couldn't let go of the feeling frantically eating at him. He couldn't watch this trainwreck happen before his very sight. He had to help this Squall keep his life back on track. He had to at least start it. This boy here, while looking exactly like his friend, wasn't even the Squall he knew and grew to care for fondly…and yet he still felt that urge to have his back.

While most of the time Bartz never understood why he felt the way he did, he usually always did blindingly follow his heartfelt instincts.

Because it felt right.

o-o-o-o

When Zidane came back out groaning under his breath about being empty handed and something to do with weird equipment in the area, his first thought was that Bartz was out of sight. "Hey Bartz, where you at? I didn't find anything, let's try another-"

He caught sight of something as he turned. It first stirred vague confusion. Then wonder.

And then the realization hit him like a boulder to the head.

Splayed on the bed was the ever still oblivious, peacefully sleeping Squall. But the only fundamental difference…

…was the complete absence of his clothes.

"Oh no. Oh no he didn't. Just no."

Zidane couldn't believe what his accomplice was about to get himself into.

* * *

><p><strong>To Be Continued...<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Restoring the Lion's Heart: Chapter 3**

_A/N_: Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took a while to get up. While I mentioned I'd be away for a bit, I didn't plan for the hold up to take this long. Anyway this chapter has been broken down into two parts, so the next one should be up somewhat soon-ish. A big thank you to all readers and (especially) reviewers though!

Along with fixing up errors in the previous chapter I also completely revamped the first segment of chapter one: I went into much greater detail about 589's arrival in the new world and how they coped with the transition. You don't have to re-read if you're not bothered, but I highly encourage you to.

So without further ado, here is chapter 3!

* * *

><p>No, no, no. In an orbit round about way those words rang incessantly through Zidane's head as he raced down the empty corrider of the vast dormitory. Rapid light steps resounded in the ghostly hall - his gait was precise, swift, and direct.<p>

He expected the worst. He hoped his expections of the possible worst case scenario were just being blown out of proportion, but it was hard to presume anything as valid because he knew that his friend, Bartz, was both completely predictable and also, at times, not. As to avoid surprises it was just best to expect to worst out of him (mind the thief though, for his comrades would usually do the same for Zidane as well).

The thoughts and woes of the thief fueling his legs, he carried on, fast, rushed, driven - the words still ringing in his head like an internal alarm bell - racing onwards without breaking a sweat - right until he finally caught glimpse of what he presumed was his target.

"Bartz!"

The mime was at the very end of the corrider, just about ready to make a turn for the main roundabout hall and exit the official dormitory perimeters. However he heard Zidane, for his head perked up in attention and slowly turned to watch the thief race towards him in a blazing fury speed.

Zidane's worst intentions proved to be true.

Bartz was completely decked as Squall. The shirt, the pants, the jacket, even necklace, he literally wore everything he could steal off the dormant boy to make his impostor plan look convincing; and while the clothes proved to fit him well enough, they were a little visibly more loose on the mime – he did have a slightly more slender frame after all. The thief was a little surprised at Bartz's scrutinous attempts and attention to detail: he noticed that his hair, too, had undergone some treatment to have it as similar as possible to the coiffure Squall usually had. There was even something that vaguely resembled the iconic scar right between his eyes, in the exact location as it was on Squall's head (the thief hoped of course that wasn't an actual real wound Bartz opened up himself just for the sake of his crazy idea – said crazy idea which Zidane was not going to stand by and let happen). All in all, one could legitimately mistake Bartz for Squall Leonhart – at least from a distance you could.

Surprisingly the brunette made no attempt to step up his pace and move out – he actually stopped walking altogether and waited in place, waited for his friend to reach out to him.

"Bartz!" Zidane was savage when he tugged at Bartz's arm, anger blooming out freely. He wanted to make it very clear how he felt about the mime's plans. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing...?" Bartz offered dumbly, with shifty eyes.

Zidane rolled his in response, and forced out an aggravated sigh. "You can't be serious with it though? Do you really think you'll be able to pull off something this stupid? _Masquerading as Squall?_ You're taking everyone here for complete mugs!"

"I don't have to listen to this," supposedly Bartz was hoping for a bit of comfort or change of heart from the thief – how and why was beyond Zidane – so he decided he'd be on his way again, making a turn on his heel ready to set off.

But the mime couldn't get far, as Zidane simply tugged on his arm harder, stopping him from escaping and keeping him in place. "Look Bartz, I understand your intentions but seriously, by the time you could be done with this we would have already found the ring."

"And we also probably _won't_! All I want is for Squall to pass his SeeD exam and to become a SeeD – that's it." The mime's look was intense. It was hard, strong, leaving no room for any doubt or any possible theory this was just an opportunity for the mime to goof off. He legitimately wasn't kidding around and felt very serious about his plan, however stupid Zidane may deem it be. "I just...I just want him to at least be ready when he wakes up. Becoming a SeeD is the first step to taking out that old hag of a witch, and I can't look for the ring while knowing Squall won't pass the test when I could've done something to prevent it."

"Forget what's happening around you! You know that we'll be able to sort it out anyway–"

"No! Unless we find the ring in literally less than ten minutes, then we don't know if we can! And that's just the problem!"

Zidane stared at his friend in astonishment. A frown soon followed, then knotted brows. "Aren't you usually the optimistic one who says anything is possible? Why are you suddenly so gung-ho about the 'what ifs'?"

Bartz kept his intense and fiery stare. "I wasn't – at least, up until I realized and saw the situation. I can't just leave it like that now, knowing about it." A short pause. "Look, this doesn't have to be done by myself - I want you to come along. We're partners, and we should stick together."

"How do you expect me to come along?"

"I don't know, we'll find a way."

"The fact that you even think I'm standing behind this dastardly stupid idea, is stupid in itself. Damn Bartz, I thought we were a team."

"We are! Which is why I'm saying we should do this! We'll still look for the ring, but right after we get Squall to pass his exam!"

The thief just stared at the mime in disbelief. The mime in turn, continued to stare at his friend – but with now pleading eyes.

"Wait a minute, isn't that one of the invaders from earlier…?" a voice announced, from a distance. While neither Bartz or Zidane could recognize the voice in itself, it didn't take much guessing for either of them to know who that person was from what they said: it was one of the guards from earlier, having not forgotten about their little game of chase.

"Ho crap," started Zidane. There was only mention of one of them, so apparently they didn't recognize Bartz. Well, good for him. Zidane was done with the boy for the time being. Quite frankly, their timing couldn't have been anymore perfect – if this wasn't an excuse handed on a silver platter for him to leave then nothing else was.

But Bartz was looking worried, if not, somewhat remorseful. "Wait, Zidane," he begun with, but the small blond wasn't having any of it. He had long let go of Bartz's arm and was he himself, ready to exit the corridor and start the chase with the guards again. Alone, this time.

"Whatever. Go do your poxy thing and have fun with it, while _I_ go and save our _actual_ Squall."

The thief didn't even let the mime get in another word before he raced off, guards of course following in tow. The mime however, just stood there, letting the words slowly sink in and feeling a little more dejected as the realization really started to hit him.

Maybe he really ought to second-guess this entire plan.

* * *

><p>This was just not going well. Not going well at all. Everything was falling into a crumbling state and Zidane could not seem to evade the obstacles fast enough to stay free of any ordeals and hindrances. He felt abandonned, bleak and stuck in a pile of woes to deal with. First the tyraunnoraus that rolled in a very amicable welcome wagon, then the feud with the guards at the Balamb Garden entrance which, mind you, he was still trying to deal with, and then to top it all off he just lost his partner. Wonderful – the moment when he thought things might turn out for the better, yet another obstacle wedges its way into the ever long list of all things bad luck. Zidane was stuck raging between being confined in his hiding crevice to avoid detection from the guards (where he was, exactly, was in the parking lot of the Balamb Garden where he conveniently managed to squeeze himself in one of the spaces underneath a car, after much random running and leaping about in hopes of causing his chasers confusion. It really helped his case that the entire place was practically pitch black so the guards had a much harder time locating him - they were also significantly slower, the swift and agile thief had noticed) and what the hell compelled his idiot friend to do something so stupid, not to mention detrimental.<p>

So maybe understanding why Bartz did what he did was a no brainer, but the way he was attempting to go about it on the other hand, Zidane just couldn't grasp. Risky, dumb, the adjectives could go on, but the worst part of it all was how Squall was in every single way Bartz's opposite – so how the hell Bartz was planning to pull that off incognito he really wasn't sure. But then again, that was probably the problem right there: Bartz almost never planned ahead, he usually always jumped right into things first hand without bothering to think of the consequences. That's just how Bartz was.

Not only was he mad at him for going with the plan, he was also essentially left to finish the mission to save their friend on his own. They were supposed to be partners, and yet there he was, grumbling and brooding all on his lonesome – just a few hours into their mission. Didn't Bartz care at all for _their _Squall? They were not the same person, so why he was so hell bent on helping that stranger Squall was just beyond him.

Zidane was in such a state of anger that he really was about ready to just leave Bartz to his 'heroic' antics and find the bastard ring himself, vengefully plotting that when he did find it, he would hurry off back to their world and leave the mime to rot alone in Balamb. "That would teach him," spat Zidane, mostly to himself.

Now his ideas sounded tremendous in his head, but then there was that threat again about not being able to leave the university at all. The guards had recognized him and apparently hadn't forgotten about their little spat earlier, much to Zidane's annoyance. _Why can't they just chill and go sip on coke or something? Sheesh, I have enough problems on my plate as it is._

The coast was quiet however. Only silence tapped on his ears, faint footsteps having long ago disappeared from hearing range. Zidane still stayed cautious, as he peaked out of his hiding spot to make sure the guards were well off or at least tired of chasing him. It was deemed safe to walk out in public again, so he swiftly leaped out and started trotting away, trying to make an exit from the university.

Unlike a certain someone.

* * *

><p>Bartz carried on walking blindly, trying to forget his little head to head with Zidane. The more and more he walked further down the circular hall, the more the conversion started to weigh on him and stir vague feelings of hesition and doubt. Something that Bartz really didn't do, whenever he had something he wanted to carry out.<p>

Was he really doing the right thing? Could he really pull this off?

He didn't even know where he was going or where he was to go - in fact, upon reflection, there was very little that Bartz knew at all; about the place, about the possible people Squall knew, hell, even that lady from who he heard about SeeD exam - who was she? What was her role and how exactly did she even know about the SeeD assignments? She obviously must have been some sort of official, that much was certain, but the specifics were missing. His ignorance and eventual slipping could actually cause more harm than good, and the probability of that happening seemed far more likely than not.

Bartz was actually beginning to second guess this entire idea and whether or not he really ought to have listened to Zidane and just turn back now to find him.

Speaking of which, he honestly did feel bad. He felt a little selfish. Maybe it was selfish of him to take off like that without bothering to set terms with Zidane, who was profusely against the idea. And he had every reason to be. But at the same time Bartz was upset that Zidane couldn't see the implication this might cause were they to neglect Squall's exam and couldn't see that this mission was not just about _their_ Squall, but about all the other Squalls in the dimensions - so in a sense, they had a sense of obligation to each and every one of them, just as much to their ever beloved friend. _I know I'm right, I know I'm right,_ he chanted, trying to re-convince himself and regain the confidence he initially had.

"Oy, watch where you're going Squall!"

Bartz hadn't even noticed he had walked right into someone, the realization only dawning onto him once the poor victim of his careless wandering barked out - quite loudly, he might've added.

He found himself staring straight into the face of a young male, not much older looking or taller than Bartz. Sporting deep brown trimmed short hair, accompanied by an equal pair of glaring dark chocolate eyes and an angry pout, the young boy didn't make it a secret that he was marginally annoyed. Startled and confused, Bartz simply gaped his mouth, as if trying to say something, anything - but the angry brunette didn't let him out much further.

"Move! The prep for the exam is starting soon, and unlike you I actually care about it and would rather not miss it!"

_What the...?_ Bartz was a little taken aback at the assumptions and rudeness of the stranger fellow - but 'little' was well enough and all it took for the now miffed mime to completely forget he was, in fact, not his impulsive self but instead Squall, and lash back out.

"You don't know jack! Who the hell do you think you are?"

Only a moment too late before Bartz realized what he had done. _Oh crap,_ he internally cursed. Yes, this was just burdening proof of how silly it was of him to think he could get away with the master masquerade plan.

The other young fellow didn't retaliate however and only offered his large widening eyes, face vaguely expressing fear. It should be noted that the boy had also stepped back a little, seemingly cowering away from an expected blow that was to follow the lash Bartz had displayed.

But of course, none followed. Bartz tried to quickly set himself straight again and get back into character; unfortunately for him though his efforts proved to look a little uncertain, as his eyes darted from corner to corner in embarrassment and did every bit to avoid the boy's line of vision.

No one said anything for a good few seconds - and since Bartz wasn't looking at the other male, he couldn't even see if the boy was attempting to break the silence - but what did happen next and Bartz was not necessarily expecting was the faint steps of feet scuttling away. The boy had head off without another word.

Blink, blink. The mime didn't really know what to make of the reaction as he scratched the back of his head questioningly, but he did know one thing: his disguise was at least good enough for him to be mistaken for Squall. Sure, he wasn't nearly prepped enough to maybe face the (occasional) circumstance where he was to know or answer certain logistics of this academy, but the success of the disguise alone was motivation enough for him to carry on with the original plan, Zidane be damned.

_I can do this! All I need is to inform myself as much as I can, then I should be good!_

Documenting, yes. He would spend the next five minutes prepping himself of all that he possibly could. Hell maybe he could look through Squall's room and find any useful resources that could aid to the understanding of the academy, principles and so on and so forth. Even if it was just a little bit, at least he would be in a better position than him blindly going of.

Smirking proudly to himself for thinking through things for a change, he decided to continue down the circular hall but up again at the curve for north, where the dormitories nestled, to head back into Squall's room.

As Bartz was jogging off however, unbeknownst to him the boy he had startled just a few moments ago had stopped in his tracks a fair distance behind the mime just to eye him for a moment - only to later turn back round and head away to his destination, incoherently grumbling and mumbling in tow.

* * *

><p>At the rate this was going, Zidane figured that he wasn't ever going to leave the university. It seemed like without Bartz, who he had appropriately coined for the occasion a breathing good luck charm, he was simply unable to get the guards to lose his tracks: when he had exited his hiding spot in the parking lot and unsuccessfully tried to find an exit there, he was yet again busted and got chased by the security mob right out of the parking area. And when he would manage to lose them again but in another department (the last time it was in some sort of a jungle training room with real life, breathing monsters inside. Zidane thought he saw that very same tyrannosaurus rex breed which greeted him a very special kind of good morning), the chase would only soon start yet again once he popped out of his hiding to attempt to find another exit. It was an endless cycle which refused to break, and had gone on long enough for Zidane's liking.<p>

This time, however, after heading out of the training center and dodging the grabby hands of the guards, he carted in laps round the circular hallway – slick perspiration coating his skin, from all the running and acrobatics – and decided to try his luck in another department. He noticed that the new branch he was aiming for was just left of the dormitory as that was situated north of the building's first floor; so he frantically fumbled his way down the northwestern corridor that branched off from the ring like for all the other departments, in hopes of coming out triumphant this time round – or at the very least, finding another hiding spot, so he could stop and take a breather from all the incessant running.

As he entered the department it soon became clear to him that it was a cafeteria, and his assumptions from earlier (when he and Bartz were searching the vacant classrooms) proved to be correct: it was surely lunch hour, for the place was proper packed.

Jackpot. Already Zidane had a massive lead on the guards – bless his agility gift – so getting in and losing himself in the sea of starving students and teachers alike would prove to be an immediate relief in his favor. He bustled and wedged through the tight crowd, ignoring the yelps and accusations thrown his way as he quickly tried to make for some sort of cover before the guards too got into the cafeteria. He needed to be completely out of sight, stat.

Unfortunately it was becoming increasingly more and more difficult to move through such a crowd, as him diving deeper into the sea of beings only resulted in him getting into denser grounds. He was getting frantic - he had to hurry up - the guards were on his tail, he had to find anywhere to lay low and away enough from the persistent guards.

Zidane couldn't see form where he was stuck firm in the herd, but only a few moments followed up when the guards also reached the cafeteria and struggled to look overhead and amongst the crowd for any sign of the thief – who was not only small, but wedged well into the center of the hungry mob, clearly out of view from the entrance. The place was currently far too busy to make the search worthwhile, not to mention that the lunch break would be over in roughly an hour so it wouldn't be long before the invader would have to slip out of his temporary position. Instead of disturbing the peace and disrupting the people of their only break of the day, they decided, while going on standby, that they would simply opt for making a general announcement and take advantage of the many pairs of eyes at their disposal.

It was only when Zidane heard one of the voices of the guards speak up in a loud, bold manner, did he start to seriously get nervous. "Attention students of Balamb Garden! There is currently an intruder somewhere in this cafeteria, so if you notice him report to security immediately! He's blond, about one meter sixty-five, sports blue baggy pants and–"

"Sounds like Zell," someone cockily announced, loud enough for it to reach all ears currently standing (or sitting) in the cafeteria perimeters. "About time they decided to ban his ass for hogging up all the hot-dogs and for being an all around unwanted fruitcake."

Laughters were quick to follow suite.

"Hey! Shut up you jackass! Cuttin' up Squall's face ain't enough so now you gotta pick on someone else?"

"Pretty much, yeah. You gonna do something about that, chickenwuss?"

_Woah, who is this douche._ Zidane could only internally cringe at the aggressor publicly humiliating the Zell fellow, who the blonde had remembered from upstairs. It was hard to forget such a...boisterous voice. While Zidane's first impressions of him were not particularly endearing either, he wasn't about to spew hate like this rude chump was doing. A tinge of guilt almost poked at his heart.

As small of a quantity as the guilt was, it was enough to strike Zidane's morbid curiosity and attempt to peep over to see who the aggressor was, all the while being fully aware of where peeping from his hiding spots had gotten him all this time. But it wasn't possible anyway, given his height and inconvenient location.

The guards however made no attempt to stop the banter directly, but instead continued off from where they left. "This is serious! In addition to that description, one glaring feature of this creature is that he has a tail. If anyone notices someone matching such a description, please contact security immediately. Stall him, if you can."

It was hard for Zidane to make it out what with the many people drowning away all the finer noises, but after terminating their impromptu announcement the guards turned heel once more and were off again. All Zidane knew was if they were done and had left then their little lecture had thankfully amounted to literally nothing: there he was, still wedged in the middle of a crowd, right in front of someone (_several_ someones even) to put two and two together and yet, no one had taken notice of him or cared enough to report him. This of course was naturally due to the attention having greatly shifted from the guards to the aggressor and the Zell person, who were seemingly about ready to engage in a fight – which Zidane couldn't even see, but was sure as hell feeling the sudden surge of jittering elbows and movements of excitement from too-close neighbors. Either that, or they were starving to the point their brains had problems functioning.

One thing was for sure though, he really needed out of this confined, suffocating herd that was now bustling. It was becoming unbearable, and toppled with his unfortunate height and his own transpiration, the air was quickly reaching unbreathable ranks – he couldn't be getting any oxygen out of it. It was at moments like these when Zidane wished he knew how to handle magic, you could literally do all sorts of cheats in these type of situations.

But Zidane didn't know magic and his only access to magic was off playing heroes, so he was essentially stuck with his instincts and street smarts. So, needing a little space for himself still, he hauled up as much of his force as he could muster and continued to shift more forcibly through the crowds until he would reach the very ends, where he hoped it would be a bit less dense (not that deciding to shift through a mob of people really required any street smarts, admittedly).

During his hunt for air he half consciously also started to think up of solutions to bypass the guards and exit Balamb...and while he wasn't aware of it yet, the answer to his woes was located right in that very same cafeteria as well.

* * *

><p><strong>To be Continued...<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Restoring the Lion's Heart: Chapter 4**

* * *

><p>It was hard to say whether the quest to save Squall's life was going well. For one, currently neither of the heroes carrying out the task were accomplishing something together and secondly, both of them seemed to be at a roadblock in their own separate paths: Bartz was making it his goal to prep himself as best he could for the big exam while Zidane still struggled to get out of the university altogether without getting his behind fried by the persistent security, who were still firmly set on capturing him alive. At least for the moment he could take a break from the incessant chase, even though the ruffled blonde wasn't sure if being stuck in a crowd of screaming and cheering hooligans rubbing against each other in the heat of the moment was an all that better alternative. The situation was becoming such that Zidane wasn't so much concerned for the direction he was going so long as he could escape from the overheated crowd to get some air and actually breathe again. He was starting to get light-headed.<p>

"Well chicken-wuss? You just gonna stand there or are you gonna man up and do something to stop me?" barked snidely 'the douche', as Zidane had so eloquently dubbed him.

"I dunno 'bout you, but I've been waiting three years for my SeeD exam – I ain't 'bout to pass it up and wait another three years just for the likes of you, however much you deserve to get bent!"

"Ha, because you think a weak little rag like you will actually pass? Get over yourself! Quit chickening out on me like the chickenwuss you usually are for once."

"Stop calling me that!"

The next thing Zidane heard was a violent hit. Impossible to tell from his position who it was exactly that threw the first punch, but the commencement of the potential brawl sure stirred some serious commotion among the crowd – much to Zidane's annoyance. At this point he wasn't even trying to be gentle anymore, literally shoving people out of his way at full force to avoid asphyxiation.

"Hey hey hey -_ hey_! You kids, stop that this instant!"

Beyond the views and cares of Zidane, a man in a white chef getup attempted to pull the two quarrelling boys apart. He was considerably large, making the task seem relatively simple for the man if it were not for the fact the place was practically an untamed barn, with much agitation and excitement for there to be any room for either of the frenzied boys to be far enough apart from each other. "I will have zero of this nonesense in here! If you guys are intent on breaking each other's faces, then take it outside! This is the canteen for crying out loud!"

With that, the large interruptor slightly shoved, as best as he could, the quarreling boys in direction of the exit, the large crowd struggling to divide in two as not to fall over and start a stampede. "I will tell you both right now, though, that it takes more than just power to become a SeeD. You need a sense of companionship. You need to be level-headed upon daunting situations and most importantly, your mission takes precedence over your personal feelings. If you guys don't get yourselves together in time for your exam, then I fully suggest just giving up altogether and re-doing the extra three years to prepare for the exam again. You're obviously still kids."

Zell, frustrated and pouting, quickly went to defend himself. "I'm seventeen! I'm no longer a kid–"

"Then stop acting like one!" roared the chef. "And that goes for the both of you. Now get out of here."

As Zell continued his pouting streak, the other offender however wasn't looking nearly as interested or even paying the slightest remote attention for that matter. Halfway through the rant he decided he'd heard enough repetitive babble, and with an arrogant scoff, he headed off, brutally making more way for himself to pass through the crowd. Zell though hung his head a little in defeat at what the larger and wiser man said, eventually making his exit as well.

With the exit of the two firestarters, the crowd's rowdy excitement soon died down as well, seemingly left in little disappointment as audible complaints such as 'lame', 'should've gone all out' were thrown amongst each other. But with order having set back in again and people remembering that they were to eat and not to be entertained, there was some loose room and god forbid some actual air, making it considerably easier now for Zidane to move and breathe again.

Though as it were at that moment, the thief looked a little perplexed, rooted in his spot as he stared off into space supposedly deep in thought.

He hadn't particularly meant to pay attention to the spat that was had with the sage stranger who had stopped the bloodshed between Zell and the unlikeable other boy, but he had, and now he suddenly found himself doing some serious reconsidering:

_'I will tell you both right now, though, that it takes more than just power to become a SeeD. You need a sense of companionship. You need to be level-headed upon daunting situations and most importantly, your mission takes precedence over your personal feelings.'_

_'As fate would have it, Squall is the one destined to take out Ultimecia, which is why it is important for me and the sake of my dimension that we put him back in the time cycle. I'd imagine it's important for you to have your friend back, too.'_

It was with that speech about what the SeeD were that triggered something inside. He hadn't realized before how preoccupied he was with the Squall _he _knew, the Squall _he_ cared about. In retrospect, the entire time we was solely thinking of his feelings and his need to get his friend back with the pretext that finding the ring would solve the issue for all the other Squall cases. But the mission was not just about him and Bartz and their Squall, it was about everyone invovled in the dimension should Ultimecia ever achieve to destruct it.

__'If you guys don't get yourselves together in time for your exam, then I fully suggest just giving up altogether and re-doing the extra three years to prepare for the exam again.'__

_Wait, isn't Squall nineteen...?_

The Squall in their world was nineteen years old. He was seventeen when they had initially met during the 13th cycle, two years having gone by since their reunion together in the then new and foreign universe. So if he was seventeen when they met, and had already thrashed Ultimecia, then at this moment of Squall's life, he had taken and passed the SeeD exam and had apparently fought Ultimecia in the same year. Which meant...

"...Squall has to pass that exam today. Aw man,"

Suddenly Zidane began to see the severity of the situation and the ways of his errors.

Bartz was right all along. He suddenly felt a little guilty for completely mouthing off his partner, but as it was now he had to get out and find him again, and help him in the task of getting Squall to pass that exam. But how exactly was going to go about this?

It was only a moment later when the thief, idea in head ready, quickly wedged his way through the dissipated crowd and out the cafeteria perimeters.

* * *

><p>"Hi."<p>

Despite Zell being in a bit of rush, he still stopped to give attention to the little interrupter who had tapped his shoulder from behind. It was Zidane. Zell blinked questioningly at him, as if waiting for him to carry on. "Uh, can I help you with something?"

Once Zidane had tentatively exited the cafeteria and made sure the guards were well out of boundaries to harass him, he managed to locate Zell, who was fluttering off rather hurriedly towards the northern parts of the floor. His plan was simple and very Bartz-esque, almost unable to believe that he himself was actually going go with it. But it wasn't like he was enrolled with a list of other viable options either. _What the hell do I have to lose._

"I'm a student from abroad trying to make a paper on inspiring fighters. I was wondering if you could help me out? I heard a lot of great things about you, so I'm thinking you could be of some real use." Zidane concluded his white lie with a very feigned and very plastic forceful smile.

Zell seemed to register no suspicion from Zidane's act, and instead appreciated the compliment. He made a sort of regretful smile, as if apolegotic that he couldn't offer his generosity and help the little student with his work. "Would love to help a fan out but I really gotta go - SeeD exam's in ten, and I still needa get changed!"

"Well, that's ok, I only got a couple of questions. Mind if I tag along?"

There was an unsure and hesitant pause. "I guess…can't this wait though?"

"Nah, not really."

"If you say so. Let's make this real quick then!"

_That was considerably easier than expected_. A genuine smirk hiked up at the corner of Zidane's lips. Lucky enough for him – something Zidane had been very short of on his arrival here – his prey was apparently very gullible, so getting through with the plan was proving more and more to be a guaranteed success. It was only a moment later they reached Zell's room, Zidane mentally noting the route of it and room number.

"So…this SeeD exam? Must be pretty big huh."

"Damn straight! SeeD's are a group of elite forces which help out the world all over - it's super renowned! Been prepping three years for this baby, and finally my dreams will come true!"

"I see," the thief added, feigning interest. "So how does it work?

"Wait are we doing the interview thing for your paper?"

"Ah yeah! Yeah. Talking about the SeeDs will help a lot."

Zell had moved to his desk to equip the jargon he needed for his exam. He carried on conversing in a cheery and enthusiastic manner, being rather animate when his hand wasn't chock full of something to be stuffed in his duffel bag. "Weelll…I think we're assigned a mission. Dunno what the details are, but they're usually always real missions, commissioned by real important people, out in the world! Pretty awesome right? Quistis was cool and told me I was gonna work with Squall, holy crap! He's like the best in my class. Can't believe I getta work with such a classy guy, now I'm sure to past the test!" There was a rather curiously happy sigh that followed.

"'Quistis'?"

"Ah sorry, got kinda off track – Quistis is my and Squall's instructor."

_So 'Quistis' was the pretty blond lady he was nagging on the second floor…gotcha._

With the bag set and his fighting utensils all in gear, Zell gave his bag a pat then went to face Zidane. "Hey well man, time for me to go – if you wanna wait around here for me, be my guest! I keep a stack of crisps in the cupboard for emergencies, so help yourself to 'em if you get hungry!"

The young student bloomed a smile, duffel bag in hand and ready to set off. How unfortunate that his benevolent nature would be the fall of him. As he was making his way for the door, Zidane made a hasty grab at him by the wrist. He was already feeling a pang of remorse for attempting to go along with this (the boy had been so genuine and open) so he decided to quickly get it over with before regret came at him full force. "Really sorry 'bout this Zell – I mean, you seem like a nice guy and all. So it sucks that I have to do this, but I swear it's for a good cause. I'm doing it for the sake of Squall."

"Huh?"

And with that, the next thing Zell saw was black.

* * *

><p>Well this wasn't of much help. Bartz had made a mess of Squall's room in the hopes of getting any substantial information to help him seem less ignorant, but the only thing it resulted in was tossing and turning anything within hands reach and wasting time reading something called Weapons Monthly Magazines. To say he read the magazines in itself was a gross overstatement: he had actually discovered there were some rather funny strips at the end of each issue, and in the amazing practice of completely losing track of all things important, Bartz found himself rummaging through the collection. Talk about productive. <em>Man I seriously gotta do something about my concentration. This is just bad.<em>

Bartz figured he may as well use what little time he had left to search for the exam rendez-vous point and hope for the best, unprepared as he was. Deciding it was time to go, he put the last issue away and heaved himself from the floor to head towards the door, being careful as not to walk over the mess he mentally shoved asside to clear up later. Before stepping out however, he stopped and eyed the enchanted Squall, still sprawled on the bed under the white sheets. "Wish me luck, Sleeping Beauty!"

As he silently exited Squall's personal space and closed the door behind him securely, he found himself almost bumping into yet another student.

"Bartz!"

At first Bartz made a startled face, as if surprised to hear the student call him by his name. The initial surprise was quick to transition into mild confusion when he registered the voice.

"…Zidane?"

"Yeah, yeah."

The mime stared on, confused. Upon closer inspection in front of him was indeed his dear friend who had stormed off earlier, but this time he was dressed and styled in a completely different getup. "I…don't understand."

And the thief was expecting such a reaction, so without further word the blond schemer grabbed Bartz's wrist and trailed him down into the deeper ends of the dormitory quarters, finally stepping into the room Zidane had concocted his rather brash, but well intentioned plan. At first view, nothing extraordinary could be taken of notice, but when Bartz noticed a lump under the sheets of the bed, and Zidane caught on, he went ahead and unravelled the mystery by flipping over the white covers.

Revealed on the bed was Zell - unconscious. And very much without his clothes. Bartz could only gape at the display before his eyes, having put two and two together.

"What the crap have you done Zid?"

"Relax, this will only make things smoother for the both of us. This guy," Zidane pointed to body on the bed as he continued on. "Zell or something - is taking his SeeD exam with you. So that way I get to tag along."

While this was thrilling news for the mime, unfortunately their little spat earlier and the slight pangs of guilt Zidane had made him deal with couldn't help but resurface. "I thought you said my idea was stupid and I was stupid for going with the stupidly stupid idea."

Zidane scratched the back of his head. "I know I said those things and while I still kinda stand by 'em, you also sorta do have a point. This mission isn't just about our Squall...it's about all of them, and if this one is in serious trouble before we can find the ring then, yeah, it's our duty to help him out. Besides, just because we're playing dress up doesn't mean we can't stop looking for the ring at the same time. I also know that you literally don't know anything about this place, like the name of our instructor?"

Bartz simply bowed his head. One couldn't say he didn't try to prepare himself, but at the end of the day credit for attempts wasn't going to keep him free of making embarrassing displays of his blatant ignorance on Squall's lifestyle in the university. The only basis he had was the very little Squall had ever shared with them and what Noelle mentioned - but then again, there were no names or no specific details.

"If you really feel that strongly about this whole thing and are confident to pull this through...then fine. Nothing will change that, so I figured I may as well help you out, while we stick together and still do our search. But promise me that we'll only be doing the SeeD exam; the minute we're done we get back to what we're really supposed to be doing full-time. Deal?"

"Deal! Thanks Zidane, you really are the best!"

Bartz, ecstatic, went to swat his little mate on the back...with a bit too much force. It was meant as a friendly gesture of approval, but unfortunately for Zidane he wasn't expecting the gesture neither the intensity of the hit. He almost ended up slightly toppling over, only just stumbling before his feet to catch himself in time as not to completely hit the floor, head first and all. When Zidane pulled back up, his brows and mouth both frowning, Bartz simply offered an apologetic sheepish look. "Welp, went a little hard there sorry."

"...Who the hell are you guys?" came a drowzy, shaky voice.

With all logic considered it was only a matter of time before the real Zell were to wake up, naturally – and it must have been on some glimmer of fate that he had awoken just before Bartz and Zidane had gone off: with Zidane off pretending to be him, there could've been some serious alarm and damage to possibly the both of them were the situation of identity theft to ever get out so quickly. Now Bartz and Zidane did not think about the implication on the grand scale of things right then and there, for they were actually frozen in place at the sight of an awoken Zell.

How much of what Zell saw and heard was beyond their knowledge but in an instinctive rush of panic, the boys did the only thing that came to mind: knock Zell back to unconsciousness. Bartz however opted for a much less brutal route, and simply casted the boy to sleep right after Zidane had done a one-two way with his fists.

"I feel kind of bad for doing that, to be honest."

"Sacrifices have to be made. And hey I'm doing this for your dumb thing, remember?"

Bartz shook his head, but an amused smile played at his lips, feeling no malice from the remark. "Yeah, yeah. The sleep spell should keep him quiet for a good while, but we should probably hide him too."

Agreeing to the idea, the boys heaved the unconcious fellow – Bartz carrying the arms and Zidane the legs – and contemplated several moments on where exactly they could store the body out of blatant sight should anyone walk into the room. Unfortunately the room was already such a confined space - there weren't much options, if maybe the bathroom in the second section.

But then suddenly Bartz started to drag the body towards a closest, with Zidane almost tripping at the sudden impromptu gesture. The mime struggled a little with his foot to cast the door of the confinement open, and gestured with his head to the short thief to start shoving the man inside. The whole procedure seemed rather unsettling and well beyond their usual principles and morals, but apparently their intentions and reasonings greatly outweighed what they were making the poor Zell boy go through.

Bartz smiled sadly to himself. "I knew I'd find a use for sitting through Squall's playthroughs of Metal Gear Solid."

* * *

><p>Anticipation. Anguish. Whatever lingering doubts or negative vibes were had, they were forced aside to make way for courage and hope – the only support both Bartz and Zidane internally carried that could literally pull them through the concocted stunt they were about pull. This was it. The boys had long set off, fingers crossed and prayers said, and marched along together, ready – mentally anyway – to help build and prepare Squall Leonhart's heroic future. Thankfully for Bartz, Zidane had vaguely recalled the blond lady from earlier mention they would meet by the lobby on the first floor. "What would you do without me, eh?" Zidane teased. Bartz didn't bother retaliating, thinking he would've just wandered around long enough until he found the location.<p>

As they approached their destination, a familiar figure – to Zidane anyway – was standing by a center piece just in front of the staircase leading to the elevator. While Bartz never did see the figure when they were raiding the classrooms on the second floor, Zidane had explained who she was and how she looked like, as to avoid surprise reactions.

The blond lady, known by the name of Quistis, eyed the approaching impostors curiously. "Oh? …Getting acquainted with Zell Dincht, are we Squall?" There was a certain amused expression in her face, and by the way she said it, it was implied that the comment was mostly a joke. This was besides the obvious fact regarding Squall's nature, giving the joke all the more away.

At first Bartz turned his head thinking that she was actually talking to Squall, apparently having forgotten that he himself _was_ Squall. However he was quick recover from his little slip and meet Quistis with a response. "Ah! Uh yeah. I guess you could put it that way, heh." He tossed flippantly – and ended with a misplaced smile. Apparently the mime didn't catch on.

The thief froze, already beginning to second guess his decision to go along with this hoot, not sure whether he could stomach the embarrassment of being outed as identity thieves. _If this chick is not suspicious…_

But Quistis, while vaguely bewildered at first, merely blinked at Bartz, presumably thinking of what to follow up with but then abandoning. It was clear that she wasn't going to further prod into it. "...Well I suppose I should consider that a good thing, since you'll be working in a group of three on your SeeD exam – and he'll be in your Squad."

Zidane just stared on at the lady, flatly.

_Well no wonder this world depends so much on Squall to get rid of Ultimecia, apparently everyone here is either blind or a tool._ Suddenly this fair lady he was slobbering over just moments ago seemed a fair bit less attractive.

Bartz however seemed to have taken no real notice of his own blunder. "You said we'll be working in a group of three? I don't see no three."

"And he is here, my dear Leonhart."

Bartz and Zidane both turned to get an eyeful of the approaching figure. A tall man, with short golden blond slickback hair and a set of blazing green eyes that could only spell mischief, walked boldly and slowly –sported trench coat only just slightly carrying itself with the with the movements – towards the squad members and instructor. He had an authoritative aura about him, which was only further accentuated by the two supposed henchmen that followed him loyally.

While the mime did not make much out of the display, the little thief on the other hand was a little intrigued by the particular familiarity of the bold, deep voice of the third party member. The intrigue dissipated just as quick as it came though; not caring enough to rag onto his recollections, the thief simply shrugged it off as a memory hiccup.

"Ah, Seifer…" started Quistis. "You will be the leader of Squad B, which you have all been assigned to. Squall, Zell, I expect you to follow his orders. "

"That's right bitches, I'm the boss – and as your first order, keep the hell out of my way!" He turned to look at his squad. A sudden expression of disgust tainted his otherwise rather handsome face. "'the hell you even doing here, chickenwuss? How many higherups did your mother have to beat off just for you to get on this exam at all?"

Zidane – who was always quick with his mouth – couldn't do anything but widen his eyes and stare. The sudden realization of who this completely unfriendly, jerkward of a fellow was striked him too fast too soon to mentally brace himself in time for a proper comeback –

– their squad leader was the very same douche humiliating the very same Zell he was pretending to be from the cafeteria.

It wasn't even what he said that threw him off, it was the fact that this person was essentially Zell's bully, and he would be stuck with the jerk for pretty much the entirety of the exam.

_So in addition to searching for the ring and watching Bartz's back, I have to deal with this cunt? I just can't win!_

There wasn't much room left for either of the boys who were clearly igniting a venomous chemistry to prolong the banter, for a short but round old man, otherwise known as Headmaster Cid, soon came into view. He walked towards them then stood by the instructor, facing the students. "Is everyone here?" he began tentatively.

Seifer, never short on ammo to rile up people around him, gave a provocative smirk before turning to face their principal, supposedly waiting for something to come of him. By this point both Zidane and Bartz – the mime not withstanding from showing signs of irritation at the male for having pissed off his friend – were both glaring daggers at Seifer. Bartz however had at least tried to save it for when he wasn't looking.

"It's been a while. How's everyone doing? This exam will involve twelve members from Squads A through D..." The large aging fellow started giving his speech, a bold inauguration regarding the exam and the value of SeeDs. Neither of which Bartz or Zidane were unfortunately particularly paying attention to, the man's words quickly becoming incomprehensible babbles to their ears. It never did take long for either of their feigning interest capacity to be breached.

Zidane, having noticed that Bartz wasn't really following either, scooted closer and nudged him discreetely.

"I seriously currently hate you right now. Just thought you should know."

"That's not fair to blame your beef with the Seifer guy on me – it's not like I'm the jerk."

"Yeah but this whole pretend rescue thing was your idea and I'm essentially going to suffer the most."

"I'll make it up to ya, I promise!" Bartz quietly laughed off.

* * *

><p><strong>To be Continued...<strong>

_A/N:_ Ok yeah this took kinda long sorry. Admittedly it was mostly the greater part of the first section in the chapter which gave me problems. I'm also not going to pretend or promise to have the next chapter up sometime soon since I have this thing of saying whenever I will update shortly the reverse happens, so I'm just going to stop talking now.

Many thanks to those still reading, and especially you reviewers! Every one is greatly appreciated.

**Wingsong5555: Wow. I feel kinda bad for Zidane. I guess being short can be a blessing and a curse. Great chapter!  
><strong>Oh haha, yeah. I'm a shorty myself so I can kinda relate. Thanks for sticking around!

**nanami92: Can't wait to read some more!**  
>Well, here you are!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Restoring the Lion's Heart: Chapter 5**

* * *

><p>After the little intermission with the old headmaster named Cid, the squad along with instructor Quistis scuttled off to the parking lot ready to make leave for their SeeD exam. Well, this was it now – there was no turning back for Bartz and Zidane.<p>

They drove off in a van equipped with a double-bench facing each other, where Bartz and Zidane sat together on one side while Seifer and Quistis sat opposite of them. The ride to their destination went on in silence. Bartz in particular was concentrating on staying as quiet and rigid as possible…which in result made him look more like a stiff board than anything else. As for Zidane, well he looked to be deep in thought, probably attempting to make out what they were going to do should they ever get outted before they could part from the school officially. The prospect and shame of being de-masked brought some visible traces of doubt in his downcast face.

"Scared already, eh chickenwuss?"

_For god's sake_. Inner turmoil suddenly all but forgotten, Zidane gave an exasperated groan before throwing one back. "Just, have some class for a minute and keep it shut," he paused, before spitting out his assaulter's name like it were venom to his tongue. "_Seifer_." In that brief moment of self-reflection he had completely forgotten about their wretched leader.

Perked at having been blatantly talked back at, Seifer unsurprisingly decided against the request and in turn, went to drag it on. "Hey now, that's no way to answer back to your leader."

"I don't care. So long as you keep being an ass, so will I."

"Well damn, since when did you grow a pretty sharp tongue of your own? Let's just hope your pathetic punches have stepped up just as quick.

Zidane reflexively arched an eyebrow at the last comment. _Punches...? _

Expecting a full-out verbal attack, Seifer was instead left with an unexpected quizzical expression from the blond. Mildly intrigued by the Zell imposter's curious reaction, he quipped on. "What's with the dumbass face? Did you suddenly forget brawling was your "thing"? And I use that loosely, since you really can't hit worth crap. That punch in the caf earlier was pitiful."

"Seifer! That's enough now!" Quistis yelled, attempting to bring the infantile banter to a halt.

Zidane however was not ready to let it go – Seifer's insufferable attitude was just the needed topping on his crap flavored ice-cream to finally set him off.

But Bartz seemed to have noticed his friend's blatant seething, who looked about ready to pop right through the roof of the van at any given minute – so in the hopes of putting to ease any sort of potential catastrophe that could embark in the vehicle, he nudged the fellow a little with his shoulder.

"C'mon Z he's not worth it," Bartz whispered discreetly to the pent up blonde.

What good of it, when Seifer always had to have his way. "What was that Squall?"

"Nothing." quickly answered Bartz.

"Sure as hell didn't look like nothing."

"…It was nothing about you, if that's what you're getting at?"

"Try me!" seifer

"I thought you said we should stay out of your face though."

At this point Quistis' patience had long run out – if she wanted to babysit she would have up signed up for the corresponding job long ago. "If none of you behave, we may as well have this car turn the other way and get you back to class! At the very least, can you pretend to act your age please?"

With a audible groan or grunt from each individual, all of them slumped in defeat and annoyance in their own corner. Seifer however, was the first to speak again.

"This sucks."

* * *

><p>The rest of the ride was spent in a murderous silence, with Zidane in particular hoping the thick tension bloated with disdain would suffocate the life out of their pathetic excuse of a leader. Much to his dismay no star graced his wish to fulfillment. <em>Of course<em>, he thought,_ the Gods have a vendetta against me_. Clearly to him it had nothing to do with the logic of things.

They had stopped by the harbor of Balamb, where they were to disembark in a vessel to their final destination, a little city by the name of Dollet, where their exam mission took place. The harbor itself was very soothing, giving way to a picturesque marine scenery. Bartz, momentarily captured by nature's charm, heavily breathed in a lump of the fresh air then exhaled – he was always more sensitive to earthly beauty. He suddenly thought of wandering out and about, enjoying the cool breeze and the birds' tunes of joy, together with Squall as his guide.

Squall.

And just like that he was brought back to reality. He couldn't help but frown as he remembered his friend's situation.

When they were all fully seated and ready in the vessel, it set off for sail. It seemed like since Quistis' intervention in the van, none of the boys had trusted themselves to speak civilly without sparking a bloodfest fight, so they opted just not to talk altogether and succumb to the tense silence which harbored all their mutual murderous thoughts of each other. It should be noted that the instructor made it a point to sit right in-between Seifer and Zidane, in the event any eventual quarrel should ignite, whereas Bartz was content with sitting by Zidane's side.

The strawberry blond woman was the first to say something since the ten minute disembark from Balamb. "…Shu, an official SeeD member, should be arriving any minute now to give you the briefing of the mission."

No one made a audible confirmation. A few nods from here and there was all that was offered.

At that, Quistis sighed. She was going to make a comment on not needing to keep quiet to behave, but instead shook her head. If them keeping silent restrained them from strangling each other then so be it. She was more than content with sticking with their own mutual solution, so long as she didn't have to clean any shed blood.

Eventually the said official SeeD member, Shu, made her way into the compartment. Quistis sat up, quickly taking a moment to brush out her creased skirt before saluting the other instructor. Having seen the action, and assuming it trained school formalities, both Bartz and Zidane thought it appropriate to do the same while Seifer, who had no respect for anyone but himself, found it fit to sit where he was. Legs comfortably crossed across a small center table without a care in the world.

Shu in return nodded then turned towards Quistis, paying no real mind to Seifer's comportment. "I take it these are our members of Squad B?"

Quistis simply gave an affirmative nod.

"Alright then! In that case, let's get down to business shall we?" Shu moved towards the front of the compartment where a large monitor was equipped. "I'll explain the current situation and mission. Our client for this mission is the Dollet Dukedom Parliament. A request for SeeD was made eighteen hours ago."

As she spoke, various schematics and diagrams suddenly flashed up on the monitor. "Dollet has been under attack by the Galbadian Army since about seventy-two hours ago. Forthy-nine hours into the battle, Dollet abandoned their position in the inner city. Currently, they have retreated into the nearby mountains and are reorganizing their troops. That's the current status. Now onto the mission objective." Shu took a moment for the slide to change. She then carried on, pointing at various corners of the monitor to illustrate her point. "According to our reports, the G-Army is mopping up the Dollet troops in the mountain region. We're to make a landing at Lapin Beach and eliminate the remaining G-Army within the city and liberate it A.S.A.P. Squad B, you are to secure the Central Square. Afterwards, SeeD members will intercept any G-Army forces trying to make their way into the city from the mountain region."

Then the slide stopped.

_...?! Wow I seriously didn't get any of that._ Bartz contemplated on whether asking such a basic question as 'that's great and all but what are we meant to do?' was out of character for Squall. Squall always tended to get everything right off the bat. Maybe he could say he hit his head as an excuse, and had trouble following?

Thankfully for him however Seifer got the basic of all basic questions covered: "So, what are _we_ supposed to do exactly?"

"Well to eliminate those G-Army guys in the city." Zidane quipped, then paused momentarily. "_Dumbass_." The last pejorative jab slipped passed his mouth. He didn't see why he had to bother with decency restrains for Seifer, considering how he held little if any respect or decency towards anyone but his own self. _I regret nothing!_

Completely unsuspecting the gibe, least of all an answer from _'Zell'_, scandalized Seifer widened his eyes in complete disbelief, about ready to retaliate with pure aggression this time.

Quistis of course caught on to this, and was just as quick to make sure none of that was about to take place under her watch. "Seifer, don't." Her voice was firm and bold, her gesture quick and decisive. She had extended an arm as a way to barricade Seifer put into his seat.

"Yeah Seifer! You totally just got outsmarted by the chickenwuss." Zidane not caring much to help the situation, screamed towards Seifer and right over Quistis head.

"Zell!" yelled the exasperated instructor. "This goes for you too!"

"You're freaking DEAD twink, you are DEAD."

None of that phased Zidane however. As far as he was concerned, Seifer was all talk. "Guess that's what someone who's all brawn no brain would say…"

With the exception of Bartz – who was trying really hard to keep his giggles to himself – all the other present passengers called out to Zidane, in one way or the other, which basically all translated to:

"Quiet down Zell!"

Seifer's however was a lot more crude than that.

"Okay okay I'm shutting up."

Trying to regain the serious atmosphere as quickly as possible, Shu attempted to get back on track and pickup from the last question. "Now that we've all settled down….yes, Zell was correct. Essentially your goal is to eliminate the G-Army then secure the central square."

"Tchh," scoffed Seifer. "Either way, this whole shit sounds lame as hell. I want something more than just rookie work."

"Well Seifer, this is as good as you're going to get before you make it to SeeD. That said...the order to withdraw takes priority. Do not forget." Shu took a moment to check her watch. "We're no doubt reaching shore shortly, so be prepared for battle as soon as we disembark."

"And try not to kill each other either, _please_." an attempted hopeful plea from Quistis.

Which was just as good as futile. Seifer shrugged, casually responding with, "Can't promise that."

Zidane's answer wasn't any better. "And I can't be blamed for first-degree slaughter if the Seifer guy attempts to get at me first."

Well, at least she tried! Sighing in defeat, she turned to give Bartz one long, pleading look.

"...I'm counting on you, Squall."

Bartz simply offered her an uncertain look.

* * *

><p>True enough to Shu's words not long after the briefing ended, the vessel carrying our Squad B reached Lapin Beach. The landing was quite the chaotic mess; there were several tanks already scattered around like abandoned toys on the shore, missiles and explosives detonated sending a number of soldiers off and away alongside the fireworks, while SeeD members, officials, soldiers alike were also rushing across the beach. While the mission seemed basic in itself, the situation looked as if a war were about to break loose.<p>

Squad B had geared up and set off once they disembarked, cooly making their way down the city to accomplish their simple task of clearing any enemies in sight. Nothing Bartz and Zidane couldn't handle. Bartz was already familiar with the Gunblade so wielding it was practically second nature to him – a handy advantage, considering how Gunblade specialists were a rarity in Balamb, and better yet gunblades were generally deemed to be a difficult weapon to yield effectively. Zidane on the other hand...

While it was no real big issue, the little blond was a little too used to dishing out with a weapon whereas Zell liked to attack his opponents with his punches and kicks – a detail which, prior to taking Zell out, Zidane completely overlooked. It had never once crossed Zidane's mind that Zell would obviously have some sort of a weapon of choice. Fists just so happened to be his. Seifer's earlier mocking of the boy had actually proved to be resourceful since Zidane would have otherwise never guessed that Zell was a brawler.

Now while Zidane was no particular slouch with his fists, he wasn't exactly a heavy hitter either. He had his speed and agility to make up for the lack of damage with quick, rapid light punches. He was comfortably having his way on an intercepted enemy only to – in the process of finishing him off – have Seifer swoop in out of nowhere and take out the remaining prey with a swift strike.

"I had that!"

"Sure ya did," drawled Seifer, resting his blade on his shoulder. He looked down at the blonde arrogantly. "I was tired of watching your weak ass punch nothing away, we need to move out. You hit like a chick.

"I do not!"

"I think you'll find that you do...heh."

"I do _not!_"

"How about you settle this with a duel?"

Both Seifer and Zidane turned to stare at Bartz, who had suddenly spoken. It was the first of anything he had said since the trip to the docks.

"A duel?" tested Seifer.

"What? Like…now?" Zidane was next.

"Yeah, a duel. Right here and now. Loser shuts up for the rest of the mission, and if it's Seifer that loses then if he says anything that doesn't have to do with the mission, we're within our right to hit or pee on him."

Zidane eyed his friend curiously. "Have you kind of forgotten we're in the middle of completing an exam..."

But Bartz just waved his hand, as if in dismiss. He had a look of fatigue in his eyes. "Well whatever! I'm tired of having to listen to you two bicker like an old couple over nothing every second. You guys getting at each others throats verbally is just as much of a waste of time as a one-off duel that could potentially end this."

"You know what? That's not a bad idea Squall. If only because I wanna pummel the shit out of Zell."

Now Zidane turned to eye Seifer again, dangerously this time. "And I kinda wanna pass my exam, thanks very much. You know if you just stopped being an all around jackass we wouldn't be having any of this."

"So basically you're chickening-out."

"It's not chickening out, it's called getting one's priorities straight."

"Dress it up however you want, shit will still be shit; chickening will still be chickening-out."

"FINE, I'll do you one better: duel after the exam, loser not only can't talk but gets to be the other's personal slave. For the WEEK."

At that Bartz couldn't help but widen his eyes in alarm. "Um…."

Seifer, on the other hand, grinned mischievously. "You're on. Better get used to taking orders, twink."

As if on cue a series of scuttles were heard from up ahead, signaling a new troop of the G-Army heading their way in an attempt to take out the Squad B.

"Must be those Balamb kids. Let's show these rookies how things _really_ get done."

"Roger that!"

The smell of action shifted Seifer's attention towards the troop. "Make it your best shot! Don't hold back on me!"

And with that, he charged towards the enemies, challenging straight into a battle alone.

As much as Bartz liked to hate on Seifer, he could at the very least admit the boy had skills for fighting. He was pretty dang good. So good, in fact, that neither Bartz nor Zidane felt the need to assist him in offing the troop, but that had more to do with the fact that the troops themselves just weren't strong at all, judging from what they had abolished already. Plus Seifer looked happy enough to deal with them on his lonesome.

So Bartz took the oppportunity to talk in secrecy with Zidane. "Uh hello? Squall? Ring? Any of that coming back to you?"

At first Zidane blinked, not sure what Bartz was getting at with that comment but then he figured he must have been referring to the stakes he had placed for the duel. Sure enough, being a slave for Seifer wouldn't leave much time if any at all to look about for the ring. "Don't worry, the duel won't even happen. I just won't be dressed up as the Zell guy."

"But…there's a real Zell. Who will come to, eventually! We can't just keep him hidden for a week!"

"Yeah well it was your idea."

"No, no it wasn't! My idea was meant to get either of you to shut up right now! Not to imply the real Zell!"

"Hey well Seifer shut up and he looks to be in a better mood so it still kinda worked?"

At that Bartz just gave up, huffing a little in defeat. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm tired and I kinda want to have this thing over and done with. You guys are wearing out my ears and patience."

"He's wearing me out too honestly."

Bartz paused a second. "…..Is this how Squall feels? When he's dealing with us? I like to think we're at least, you know…nicer? Funnier? Like we're not bitter like this Seifer guy…?"

Zidane blinked, musing over the question. He would like to hope so too, honestly. Because in the end, when Bartz and Zidane ever did anything, whether it was meaningless bickering or being obnoxiously jovial, it was out of love. And Squall never really seemed to mind it. Everything was just fun and games, they had been around each other long enough to all feel comfortable around each others presence and to know when the teasing or obnoxious behavior went overboard.

Seifer on the other hand was just a whole other story.

"You ladies coming or what? More soliders coming towards this street!" Speak of the devil...

Both Bartz and Zidane groaned, but – reluctantly – followed suite.

* * *

><p>Seifer, Bartz and Zidane had spent the greater part of half-an-hour raiding the city clean of any vermin G-Soldiers. It really wasn't a feat at all, even with Bartz and Zidane's two-year break of battle which must have left them in a bit more of a rustier state than usual. While the adversaries of the exam didn't turn out to be the warm-up they were hoping for, at least it got them back into the groove of things.<p>

Once they reached the central square of the Dollet city and cleared it, too, of the remaining soldiers, they followed the instructors orders and went on standby in the event of any immediate interception necessary at the central square. And so with that each squad member found themselves a position and got comfortable as they waited patiently: Seifer saw it fit to simply stand there, back of his sword hoslted onto his shoulder, Bartz was quick to dash right towards the impressive fountain which lay center piece of the square while Zidane plopped down on the floor cross legged.

It had been just a little over an hour since then, with nothing as particular entertainment, if other than the faint trickle of the fountain waters flowing and the soft breeze of the wind to cool their temper. A sudden stroke of a great clock clanged, marking the new hour, and a dog scuttled by. Bartz had the urge to play with it, if moreso to quench his boredom, but he did his best to pull back on his impulses and concentrate on waiting instead, like his comrades were doing. And waiting...and waiting.

...And waiting still.

A loud, bored yawn escaped Zidane. In the quest to find some ounce of entertainment he decided to get up and walk towards the center piece fountain. He stared a little at his reflection. And frowned. _I look like crap,_ he mused to himself.

It hadn't been until Seifer suddenly broke out of his position and started furiously slashing at thin air did they remember his presence. Both Bartz and Zidane jerked up a little. It was a wonder how Seifer hand't taken out his boredom unto them (well, more so Zidane) yet. At the beginning of the wait Zidane had honestly been bracing himself for the potential jab of insults. "Arrgh! What the hell is going on?! I'm sick of this of shit! I hate being taken for a mug!"

Seifer continued to gravely slash in irritation. "Come out and deal with me, ya cowards!"

Bartz was just about to reflexively tell Seifer to shut up when, just at that moment, he noticed a few nearing shadows by the walls of a street where a series of cars were parked just a few ways from them. Curious, Bartz took cover behind the fountain to observe and gestured to his comrades to do the same.

True enough a squadron of Galbadian Soldiers eventually peeped out into view only to scuttle off down a side-street.

Zidane was the first to speak. "More of the G-Army, huh."

"But they're getting away!" interjected Bartz. "Shouldn't we deck them out?"

Seifer broke out of his crouching position, standing tall as he dragged his Gundblade up with him. "Yeah, for once I agree with– _hey!_ I'm the one giving orders here!"

"I was just saying…"

"Yeah well quit trying to say anything, lest you want any help with that." It wasn't so much of a menacing tone as it was...almost a playful banter? As if it made allusion to the fact that Squall and Seifer actually had some sort of connection as opposed to Seifer just being an all-around tyrant with everybody, spewing out hate to whoever crossed his way. Bartz was a little taken aback by it.

Seifer had extended his arm to level the gunblade towards Bartz's throat, the tip only just tapping his shoulder. "I could always go for round two, you know. I wrecked ya pretty bad this morning, huh? That scar looks deep." Bartz actually didn't even notice right then and there that there was a gunblade just a few centimeters away from his throat as he was caught up in his internal musing – but that was up until when–

– something curiously shimmered at the corner of his eyes.

As Bartz registered the situation, gunblade point blank at him, he followed the line of the sword right from the tip, up the sides, up until the hilt then stared right where Seifer held his tight grip. Wound around gloved finger was an alliance.

An alliance which was familiar to him.

An alliance which shimmered a curious _purple_.

"?! What the hell?! Seifer where did you–"

"Hey _leader_, our enemies are heading out of secured perimeters." Zidane was at that point still observing to see if any additional enemies would show face. There had been couple others since the first sighting of the G-Army squadron.

At that comment, Seifer lowered his blade from Bartz and turned his attention back to the side-street, where the soldiers had headed out. "So what? We'll follow their asses towards where they're going."

Zidane wasn't sure where it was they could be possibly going but he noticed that upwards, there was a sort of facility far onwards into the mountainous distance. "What is that thing, anyway...?"

Seifer's answer was decided. "It's our next destination, that's what. If that's where the nest is then we're heading up there to finally get some long overdue action."

"Nuh uh! Instructor told us to stay here! And I don't want any penalties because of your dumb decisions."

Seifer simply scoffed. "Tchh, well it's your right to stay here and look like a loser I guess. As for me, I'm heading upwards." And with that, Seifer rushed onwards paying no real attention to whether if Bartz would follow heed.

"Whatever, let him go! Least we're rid of him, and we can pass the exam in peace then jet." Zidane turned towards Bartz, relieved to have a moment with his friend again only to be taken aback by Bartz's expression. "What's up with you?"

At that point Bartz was gaping like an idiot. Good enough that Seifer was too absorbed in his own thing to take notice of Bartz.

"_Zidane!_ Seifer, he – he has Squall's ring!"

* * *

><p><strong>To be Continued...<strong>

_A/N:_ It lives! I swear this project lives! In addition to this new chapter, I also ironed out the previous ones.

Thanks for the reviews guys! Especially the last 3 of 2012, (yllom21, randomlybrie and Oak-chan) I couldn't believe I got feedback of this fic even though the last update was over a year ago. While I had been gradually working on chapter 5 ever since then, those feedbacks were admittedly a motivational booster so – thank you. :)

Well, see you in the next chapter guys!


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